


Misguided Mischance

by Dream_tempo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: An experiment in futility, Cas is a moeblob, Crossdressing, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/pseuds/Dream_tempo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Dean wants this Valentine's Day is a big box of chocolate and a good lay. Cas has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misguided Mischance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaleidomusings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidomusings/gifts).



> I would first just like to apologize to kaleido for this. She's such a dear friend and is always doing such wonderful things for me and apparently this is all I could come up with in response. :P Which is rather pathetic because as you can tell-- this prompt was given to me clear back in February and this is all that came out of it. D: My baaad. 
> 
> I don't even know. It was late and at the moment it seemed fun to try and break out of my usual style and then it was really hard and I cut corners and.... ya. Oops! Her birthday fic will be better, I promise!!!

Dean’s had Valentine’s day figured out since he was just a teenager. It was never something he thought that he’d have to worry about- honestly it always came as a relief, a day in which the clouds finally parted and everything was simple, everything went according to plan and the result was always the same. Since Cas, he’s had to throw a lot of the things he thought he knew about the world, about himself right on out the window, but this, this was never something he could have anticipated.

Waking up to the smell of something burning, he’d run a check of all the things it could have possibly been, and checked them each in order of importance. Brother? Sleeping…. with his hands moving beneath the sheets—okay so not sleeping, but not burning so passing over all the other details is okay for the moment. Room? A shithole, but, for now, one that’s still intact. He pulls aside the musty curtains and his baby’s just fine. Half-asleep, understandably afraid, considered wholly prepared, he pulls a gun from the bedside table and pads to the kitchenette around the corner, arms extended, safety off.

Cas in bare feet, last night’s discarded _Lord Huron_ tee, and upon exceedingly close inspection some mint green briefs only just peeking from beneath the hem, is staring forlornly at what was supposed to be bacon—ashes spilling from his pinched fingers. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean.”

~~~

It’s hard to be taken seriously when accompanied by a grown-ass man wearing a candy apple red t-shirt proclaiming, “Love is Only an Arrow Away.”

Ten bucks says just where that arrow is pointed.

~~~

“Dean, I need money.”

“What?”

“Eighty six dollars and seventy three cents should suffice.”

“Oh, oh really? Is that all?”

“Well…”

“Cas, _why_ do you need money.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“ _Why_ can’t you tell me why?”

“You’re not very trusting.”

“No shit.”

“I am simply trying to treat you to a Valentine’s Day Dinner. The man at the front desk assured me lobster is the only thing that will do.”

“ _Jesus Christ._ ”

“….No—Castiel.”

~~~

“Please, Cas, for the love of God, can we just call it quits? You tried, and really that’s…. sweet, but all I want is a box of chocolates and a day off.” It’s nearly midnight and after a slew of misguided attempts at romance, Dean is a half second away from sleeping out in the car. But still, through it all, Cas has never once seemed shaken by his lack of competence and inability to follow a single plan to completion. Plodding away with a half-smile and pleasant light behind his eyes, it’s been hard not to continue to humor him. Coming off a disturbed morning’s rest, and frustrated day spent full of apologies, Dean is at his patience’ end.

“There’s just one thing left, please.” Fuck if it’s not impossible to say no to those damned eyes. And where in the hell did Cas learn to pout? Probably Sam—oversized manchild.

“Fine, fine.” Dean runs a hand down his face and sits a little straighter in the beat-down motel recliner. “What is it?” A red and white box is tossed into his lap—a black satin bow laced crookedly on top. For a few seconds, he’s speechless. Presents were never really—not for a long time. He doesn’t really do… “I didn’t get you anything.”

Cas just smiles, knowingly, and steps a little closer, nodding towards the box. With, dare he say it, excitement, coursing through his veins, Dean tears the bow aside and fumbles with the lid, tearing at the tissue paper inside to get at—a soft blue and white corset…. embroidered…. with matching thigh highs and garters… which…. “Gee, Cas…. you-uh shouldn’t have.”

Cas kneels in front of him and gathers the fabric between his fingers, feeling it reverently before catching Dean’s eye. “They’re for _both of us.”_

Well…. damn.

“Oh! I-uhm…” Dean can feel his face heating up and his mouth salivating and his pants growing tighter. “Happy Valentine’s Day me.” 


End file.
